


Worth Fighting For

by thiswildheart



Series: Where you go, I go too [5]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Force-Sensitive Din Djarin, Found Family, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiswildheart/pseuds/thiswildheart
Summary: Din has broken his Creed - to save Grogu, and because he wanted his son to know his face. Now, in the peace of the fledgling Jedi temple, he begins to consider what this means for his future; what he's lost, what he wants to do next.And how it might feel to look at Luke without the helmet between them.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Series: Where you go, I go too [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173170
Comments: 54
Kudos: 136





	Worth Fighting For

**Author's Note:**

> This is just soft and peaceful because this little family deserves all the happy quiet days ever.
> 
> Also this part of the series explores how Luke and Din are choosing to reforge their beliefs; it's just my interpretation, and believe me I love reading all the myriad possibilities everyone has written. This one does include Din steadily becoming comfortable without his armour, as a head's up.
> 
> I keep saying it - I'm so grateful for all the comments and kudos, and to everyone who reads. I hope reading this brings a little joy to you as writing it did to me!

Din has never had much cause to ask himself what he wants from life before, but the question strays into his mind more often the longer he stays at the temple.

It's never been a question of wanting, for him. There were things that needed to be done, and so he did them. He needed to be strong, so he trained relentlessly for years. He needed to support the covert, so he became a bounty hunter. He needed to survive, so he killed.

Then he encountered the child, and the line of _need_ blurred with something else, just as the Mandalorian began to blur with the man inside the armour.

And everything that happened since has led him here, to this place where he is not really needed. Not in the sense that he is used to being needed, at least. There is no fighting to be done here, no one whose survival depends on him. He does not need to be here. If he left, life would go on for them and for him.

But there is a _want_ in his chest so raw and desperate that it _feels_ like need, something so deep in him that he thinks it might be bound into his bones. He thinks there's something similar in the kid, the other side of their bond. And sometimes, when he looks at Luke, he wonders.

These are not things he has ever dwelt on before, but there is time here. It's as if the universe beyond this one little planet has simply stopped. It is the same as it ever was, of course, with news coming regularly from Cara and Greef and more sporadically from Boba; the galaxy is full of the same events and dangers as ever. Bo-Katan is still out there somewhere, like some hand of fate waiting for the Darksaber that rests in Din's room in the temple.

But none of it reaches them here. Here they have this secret, quiet place, just him and Grogu and Luke. It's been several months now, and something seems to be changing in him.

This morning he woke up and, though it was really no different to the day before, he felt like the air was clearer. Like he could really breathe deeply for the first time in years. In longer than he can remember.

Peace isn't an easy thing to trust, because it isn't something he knows. The Way is a life of conflict, a fight for the survival of his people.

Here, there is survival, but it's not a fight. It's _work_ , certainly, to grow and hunt the food they need to eat, to maintain the building and land they depend on. But he doesn't have to struggle for it, to live looking over his shoulder with one hand on his blaster.

And he's not doing it alone.

It's late morning, now, and Din is taking a day off. That's a notion that's never been more than a distant concept before the temple, something that happened to other people. As hunter he could never afford to rest when there were hungry mouths to feed; nor as prey, when the enemy might be just behind. Here, though, they have all the food they need at the moment and there is no one who knows where to find them.

All the same, it has never been in his nature to be idle. Even now, a part of Din urges him to go and find work, however arbitrary it may be. He has strength, and he should be using it.

But when he said as much aloud, Luke looked at him with that strange gentleness that Din has never been able to put into words.

"Rest, Din," he'd said, and there's something about the way Luke says his name that makes it sound precious. "This is what you were fighting for. It's alright just to _be_."

Din hadn't taken the advice at first, hadn't really known what to make of it, but something feels different today.

So he's sitting outside near the main doors, beside the little sapling. The tree is too small yet to provide him any shade or a trunk sturdy enough to lean against, but the spot always feels restful. The sun is strong and warm, the wind is moving through the leaves, and the flowers lend a sweet fragrance to the air.

None of these things mean peace, though, as much as the sight in front of him.

Luke and Grogu are some distance away, at the centre of the clearing. They're both sitting cross legged, smiling, and hovering about two feet above the ground.

This isn't as shocking as it might have been. Last week, Din had more or less had a heart attack when Grogu woke him up by demanding breakfast while _floating above his face_. There had been a frantic conversation while Din sliced fruit for the kid that morning, and Luke's lessons had been focused on the safe and responsible use of self-levitation ever since.

'Safe' seemed to be going well, which was why Din could watch the lesson without panicking. 'Responsible' was in more doubt, because Grogu was delighted to no small degree with the fact that he could essentially now fly, albeit in a limited capacity.

In fairness, Din can't really begrudge him that. His kid can _fly_. If it wasn't for the heart palpitations, it'd be the most incredible thing he's ever seen.

Even now, there's no denying the pride he feels watching Grogu concentrate and literally float. Luke says something to him; Din is too far away to hear it, but it makes the kid laugh. Din's heart seems to flip right over.

Luke is a good teacher. He connects with Grogu so well; aided by whatever link they have by the Force, no doubt, but it isn't only that. Luke is patient, supportive, and full of praise. He can be stern, but Grogu needs that sometimes; they'd never get anywhere if he was allowed to wander off _every_ time the whim took him. He seems to strike a balance between encouraging the kid to try things and not pushing too hard; there are some things Grogu is wary of doing, as if there are aspects of his power he still prefers to hide away. Luke is also good at combining teaching with play, or even declaring some days to be entirely lesson-free, and they spend those days making sure he gets to really enjoy being a child, to have fun.

It's nothing like Din had imagined Jedi school would be, and he's so profoundly grateful to Luke for all of it.

He hasn't been questioning his life lately _because_ of Luke. But he can't pretend the thoughts don't overlap, more often than he would ever admit.

Din leans backwards, hands braced against the ground so that he can tilt his head up to the sky. It is such a bright day, the sky an almost cloudless blue, a far more pleasant sight than many of the skies he has seen. The sun is bright enough that it is more comfortable to close his eyes to shield them, even with the visor in the way. He wonders what it would feel like to have the sun on his face without the helmet in between.

There is a choice ahead of him; he has known this for some time. Not one single choice, perhaps, but a hundred small ones; ones he has already begun to make, if he is honest, because today he has come outside armoured only with his helmet and breastplate. (And there is a blaster at his hip, of course; he is comfortable, not an idiot.)

And the fact that he can call it a choice at all means something fundamental has already shifted. It never used to be a choice, because there was only the Way: one course already laid for his feet to follow.

It's not inevitable, what he has begun to do. He could stop.

But he cannot really go back. He will never be able to recover his Creed, not the way his covert lived it. Sometimes he longs for it. The Creed, back then, was solid ground; unshakeable certainty, his life planned out.

Then there was the child, and the universe expanded before him - and became an uncertain place.

The Creed would have him save the child but it certainly did not require him to show his face Grogu, but he has. More than once, now. And he did it simply because he wanted to, because he wanted Grogu to know him, and because... because it brought them both happiness to do it. He still struggles to reconcile the choice in his mind, and yet he knows he would do it again anyway. Part of him knows it is wrong, while another part knows it felt right. It felt like everything.

And now there's Luke. Luke is an enigma, an impossible thing; a warrior powerful beyond reckoning and a kind, generous man who is so good with Grogu. He is the child's teacher but also treats him like already Grogu is dear to him, feeds him and washes him and guides him like Grogu is his own. This would be enough to put him at the top of Din's estimation but he is also unfailingly good to Din himself; respectful and patient and _funny_. He's wise and almost unknowable at times but he's also reckless, quick-witted and unpretentious. He'll make a fool of himself to make Grogu laugh then shoot a grin that makes his eyes _shine_ across to Din; he fights like something mythical robed in black but doesn't mind being seen in loose, fraying trousers and a vest yawning his way into the kitchen in the mornings.

In all the galaxy the list of people Din truly trusts can be counted on fewer fingers than he has, and Luke is already the first one Din would turn to.

It's so much. Sometimes he thinks it shouldn't be, that this kind of thing would feel normal to someone else, but it feels like everything to him.

Movement catches his eye, and he sits up. Lesson time is apparently over for now, and Luke and Grogu are making their way over. They're both walking, so Luke is going slowly to keep pace with his student, but Grogu is twitching his ears and looking up frequently in a way that Din recognises as a Force conversation. He feels the same pang of envy that he did the first time he saw it with Ahsoka, but it doesn't hurt quite like it used to. He's glad the kid has someone he can talk to properly, and if it had to be anyone other than Din, well - he's glad it's Luke.

"Brerr!" Grogu picks up his pace as he nears Din, until he can grab tightly onto Din's knee and look up with those big dark eyes. The sound he made is almost indistinguishable from his normal noises, but this one spreads like warmth through his chest. It's felt like a slightly selfish effort, lately, to teach Grogu the word; but the kid has latched onto it like he understands the meaning, even if he can't really manage the shape of it yet let alone the exact pronunciation. _Buir_. They'll get there, Din thinks, and his heart feels so full.

He reaches out to hold the kid's hand, and tiny little fingers wrap around his own.

"How'd you do, Grogu?" he asks, glancing up at Luke as the man flops to the ground beside them. For all the grace he can wield when he chooses, he can also sprawl with the casual carelessness of the desert farmboy he once was.

Grogu looks up at his teacher too, a tilt to his head that could pass as curiosity but really holds a touch of smugness, and Luke sees it too - he laughs, light and happy.

"He did very well, and he wants you to know it," Luke says. "His control is excellent, and he's agreed not to levitate before you've at least had your morning caf from now on."

Din raises his eyebrows. He knows neither of them can see the expression, but he thinks he conveys it in the tilt of his helmet too. "And what did you promise him in return?"

"I'm a teacher, Din, I don't have to negotiate."

This doesn't deserve a reply; Din waits him out.

"Oh, well," Luke says, giving up quickly with another grin. "I may have promised we'd all go out to his favourite frog pond this afternoon, but that was unrelated."

"Unrelated," Din echoes in amusement, with a look down at the kid.

Grogu gives a burbling little chuckle, then pads over to the sapling; it may not provide enough shade for Din, but there is just enough for a tiny child to lie back on cool grass with a little sigh. He's clearly tired, but not exhausted in the same way he used to be when he used his powers. His strength and resilience have grown steadily since they came here.

Luke chuckles, running one hand gently over Grogu's head. It's such a soothing, parental gesture that it steals Din's breath away.

It's all just so easy. That's the strangest thing. Luke was a stranger to him only months ago but he's already become the most consistent companion Din has had since he was a child, and the one he cares about the most (beyond Grogu, that is). It doesn't feel strange to have Luke caring for Grogu like Din does; it feels right.

This isn't the first time he's had the thought, but he has always shied away from it, much as he has been trying to avoid dealing with his Creed head on. It is tempting to do the same today but he thinks of that way he felt when he woke up, the sensation of a weight lifting and clear air entering his lungs, and the fact that the peace he's found here is because of Luke. There is strength in that.

Luke is leaning back, forearms braced beneath him so that he can face up to the sky. His hair is even brighter than usual under the sun, wind-tossed and wild. His skin is flushed with activity or the beginnings of sunburn, and his eyes are closed as if to soak in the light. He looks relaxed and happy, as at ease as Din feels beside him.

"Can I ask you something personal?" The words are out before he can second guess them.

Luke cracks his eyes open, peering over. He looks half a second away from making a joke, but something changes his mind. He sits up and faces Din head on. "Of course. Ask away."

It takes him a moment to work out how, but Luke gives him the space to think.

"It breaks the original Code of the Jedi, doesn't it, for me to be here with Grogu? For this attachment to exist?" They have talked about the Jedi a little, just as he has shared a little of the Mandalorians with Luke, but this is one point he's not really raised much. He's been almost afraid to, like being reminded of it might prompt Luke to change his mind. But he's not afraid of that any more.

Luke immediately looks more sober, though, and Din almost wishes he hadn't asked.

"Yes," Luke says frankly. "Attachment gives you something to lose, which breeds fear, which is one path to the Dark Side. You should love life, generally, instead; focus on the galaxy, not individual people. That was the way the Order worked."

"And you disagree."

"I can't know what difference it would have made to the history of the Jedi, if they'd embraced attachment," Luke says, and that wisdom is back; he looks older than his years, a hidden depth within his eyes. "But I do not believe the Order would have ended as it did. I don't deny the danger fear presents, but I also don't believe attachments are a weakness. I think love is strength; it gives you something to fight for."

In the sudden stillness that falls upon Din, in that moment, he is not sure he's breathing.

"I'm the last of the Jedi, for now," Luke continues. There is a quiet grief in his voice but also the same strength Din has noticed in him since they first met; this is a man who has survived many hardships and wounds but always persevered. "I carry them with me, but I must also live by what I believe."

Din breathes again. Luke's words still seem to be echoing in his head but he remembers why he began this conversation. "What if you weren't the last? What if the Order still existed?"

It's transparent, and he knows Luke will understand what he's thinking. But he also knows Luke will give him an honest answer.

"I don't think I could be a part of the Order as it was," Luke says slowly. "The Order achieved great things, but they weren't always right. I couldn't follow everything they believed. I would still want to be a Jedi, but I'd have to find my own path. Even if that meant going alone."

It wouldn't be simple. Luke isn't saying it would be easy. But a thing does not need to be easy to be worth doing.

Luke is making his own Jedi Code. Choosing his own path.

Din no longer follows the Way of the Mandalore. That choice has already been made. He mourns it, perhaps always will, but he does not regret what he has done.

He does not follow the Way of the Mandalore, but he is still a Mandalorian. Just as Luke is still a Jedi. He feels the truth of that in his core, even if his old covert would not agree.

Perhaps Din, then, can choose his own Way.

Mandalorian... and Din Djarin. Both together, not two sides of a coin that he feels like he has to choose between.

He will need to work out what that means to him. It's too big a question to tackle in one go, to try and shape his entire future in the space of a heartbeat. He thinks instead of this moment, right now, of his son yawning and fighting sleep on the grass, reaching up to bat at low-hanging leaves, and Luke leaning towards him, patient and curious.

Luke would never ask him to remove any of the armour. Perhaps that is why Din trusts him enough to do it.

It is years since the sun of any planet touched Din's skin. He takes the gloves off slowly, the leather a familiar rasp against his skin. He sets them down carefully and for a moment he just _feels_.

The light is so warm. It is worlds apart from removing his gloves indoors, to feel the heat almost as if it is a tangible thing. His hands seem unfamiliar, more alien than they did within the gloves; his skin is rough when he rubs his fingers together. He lowers a hand to press against the ground. The grass feels smooth, almost soft, and pleasantly warm where the earth has soaked up the sunlight. A gust of wind blows by and it feels cool, fresher than he would have thought. He reaches for the tree next and the bark is rough, the leaves delicate and frail.

Luke is smiling at him. Clearly he _knows_ , without Din needing to explain, which is just as well - he doesn't think he could speak at all, let alone share what he has been thinking. It is almost alarming, how well Luke knows him, but this smile, this fond, tender, private thing, is a look no one has ever given Din before and it is worth however much of himself he has given away to earn it.

This world of peace requires different kinds of courage of him, Din thinks, and he reaches towards Luke's hands.

Luke meets him halfway. Din takes one hand in each of his, and the _sensation_ of it is - it's overwhelming. Luke's hands are warm, firm, strong. He can feel the creases of his palms, the bend of each knuckle. There is the pulse of Luke's heart in one hand, the faintest vibration of machinery in the other. There are a thousand things to notice that he never felt through the gloves, and he wants to fix each one in his memory.

There is a shine in Luke's eyes that he thinks might be unshed tears, and Din's breath falters again at the thought that this might mean just as much to Luke as it does to him. He studies those sky-bright eyes and lets himself wonder, for once, what they would look like if he took the helmet off. It was not something he had thought to notice, that first time.

He will not remove it now. But maybe - one day.

Because there will be more days ahead, more days like this.

_Something to fight for._

What does he want from the future?

Din is beginning to think he knows.


End file.
